Micromasters: Ghost's Story
by Cyber
Summary: A sequel to Micromasters: Exposition. Beachcomber hears the account of one Micro-spook.


The Micromasters: Ghost's Story

  
  


Earth, 2007 A.D.

one month after Exposition

  
  


Metroplex was quiet today, Beachcomber mused. Odd for a city. Then again, many of the maintenance crews were taking a well-earned break as the Autobots' new allies, the Micromasters, familiarized themselves with the improvements to Autobot technology by fixing any minor glitches in the city itself or its inhabitants.

"Hey now, be careful!" a voice admonished calmly. He looked around him, then down. Of course. A Micromaster.

"Oh, my, I am sorry," he apologized. "I'm not used to having so many small people around, and you're even smaller than the humans." He examined the small 'bot in front of him. Blue, neon pink, and yellow trim assaulted his optics. Who was this one?

"No sweat, pal. The fault was mine - I forgot to watch out for you big guys, I was so happy to be in a corridor that much bigger than me again." He frowned, and then upsized. Beachcomber started, unused to seeing the size change. "Startle ya? Sorry 'bout that, but it's easier to talk to a biggie when you don't have to look up as far."

Now he was really confused. He definitely didn't know this one! "Ahh...who are you?"

"My manners are a bit lacking, huh? Ah well. If I don't know all of you guys yet, it's fair to say you wouldn't have met all of us. I'm Shutdown, one of the Racers. What about you? I think I'd remember someone that's as laid-back as I am."

"Beachcomber's my name."

"Great! The more people I know here, the better. Say, would ya like to meet my teammates? They're probably not too far away from here. We usually travel as a pack."

"Sure, why not?" Beachcomber replied. And off they went.

Some twenty Earth minutes later, Beachcomber had met Bomb, the yellow and purple explosives fanatic, Spaz, the easily excited blue and pink 'bot, and Psych, their purple and yellow colored leader. Spaz and Shutdown had the same colors, but reversed, as did Psych and Bomb. All four had race car transforms. They also, he discovered, had personalities that mirrored those of human teenagers - rebellious, reckless, spirited, and funloving. Unfortunately, it seemed that only Psych had any trace of real seriousness and maturity. Oh well. Even taking that into consideration, an interesting band.

When they left, Beachcomber sighed. He had his energetic times, but nothing like that, thank Primus. He couldn't believe how much energy the Racers had: it bordered on rowdy. Not his style at all. Pity; it didn't seem like there were any matches for him among the Micromasters: no one so quiet, peaceful and dedicated to their work without being dry. Or perhaps he had simply not met the right one yet. It was too bad, really. He had his friends among the Autobots, but he had noticed that those who had a Micromaster friend had something special...perhaps because of the bond that the Micros invoked of old. The original debriefing of the Micros, the one that had led to them joining the Autobots, had been made public to all of them. Amazing story, really.

But it was unlikely that he'd ever have more than a passing involvement with them. "After all," he said out loud, "I'm just another Autobot, and there are far fewer of them than us."

The room was dark, and he slipped in. Looks like no one's home, he thought. Good, that meant he wouldn't be meeting anyone. The very thought gave him the shakes. "Metroplex," he called, "where am I right now?"

"Two meters from where you were before, Ghost." came the disembodied voice of the city. Ghost winced.

"I mean in city terms, Mets. What sort of room is this? Being in the walls is one thing, but out here..."

"A personal room. The occupant's name is Beachcomber." Metroplex replied.

"Where is he?"

"Currently, Beachcomber is outside a building just down the street from here, Ghost. He will not be here for at least three minutes. Remain calm."

The petite robot continued to explore the room. So this is how the big ones live, Ghost mused. It wasn't a large room by Autobot standards, and all that was in it was a recharge bed, a desk, and a chair. How could someone live in such unvaried surroundings? he wondered. But then, he preferred the complex inner workings of Metroplex, as he had preferred other large devices before he and his kind had met the Autobots in person again. For Ghost was a Micromaster.

A sound alerted him to the fact that the occupant of the room was returning. Damn Metroplex! Now he was going to have to hide until this Beachcomber wasn't looking - escaping was too dangerous for such an unimportant reason. And the thought of facing a big one gave him the shakes.

  
  


Beachcomber walked into his room, going to the computer on his desk to access some files. After a few moments' work, he stopped and turned in his chair. It felt like someone was watching him. Seeing no one, he turned back to his work, only to pause astroseconds later. Someone WAS watching him, he was sure of it! "Who's there?" he called. "I know you're there, so show yourself!"

He wasn't quite prepared for the response. A small motion out of the corner of his eye, and, looking down, he saw a Micromaster come out from behind his recharge bed cautiously. No, nervously - whoever this Micro was, he was scared of Beachcomber. "It's all right, little buddy," he said, "I'm not going to hurt you. Who are you? What're you doing here?"

Ghost was petrified. "I-I-I-I'm Ghost," he replied. "I was just looking around when you came back. I didn't mean to intrude, really I didn't!" his fear broke through what was left of his calm. How could he fight someone so much bigger that he was?

But Beachcomber wasn't interested in fighting, of course. "It's okay," he soothed, "I was just curious. I haven't seen you around before, have I?"

"No...I..." Ghost sucked up his courage. "I don't usually come out. It's...It's scary out here," he whispered. "Too much space." Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Ghost's head snapped towards the door, and then he vanished without another word. Beachcomber did a double take, and then answered.

"Yes, who is it?" he called.

"It's Fritz. Did you lose track of time again? I came by to check in, and heard you talking. Is someone else there?" Beachcomber keyed the door open before replying.

"Not now. But someone was here, a Micromaster. He said he was called Ghost," Beachcomber said, puzzled. "But he disappeared when you knocked."

"I'm not surprised that he disappeared," Fritz said drily. "I AM surprised that he talked to you, though. Ghost is halfway to myth status with a lot of us. He won't speak to anyone except Countdown, our leader. He's too scared to, most of the time." He paused, seeing that Beachcomber was more than a little confused. "Ghost was involved in a mission that went badly wrong several years ago. No one is sure what happened, but he's been afraid to come out and interact with anyone since. I'm one of the few that even knows that he still exists."

"Then why did he talk to me?"

"Good question," Fritz replied. "If I knew, I'd get it to happen more often. He's been alone so long...Beachcomber, if Ghost comes back, see if you can befriend him. You're the only one peaceful enough for him to come back to." He hesitated. "Promise me, Beachcomber. Promise that you'll try. I'm worried about him."

Beachcomber didn't even think twice about it. "I'll try," he agreed. 

  
  


A week passed, with no sign of the shy little 'bot. Beachcomber was beginning to think that it was just luck, and he'd never see Ghost again. But one day as he sat tapping away at his computer, he had the same strange sensation of being watched. Without turning around, he murmured, "Ghost?" He heard a sharp gasp, and twisted in his seat.

Ghost was standing on his recharge bed, looking as nervous as the first time Beachcomber had saw him. "It's all right," he assured him once more. "I'm the only one here, and I'm not going to hurt you." He waited.

"I-I-I didn't mean to disturb you, B-B-Beachcomber. I just wanted to see you again." Ghost stuttered in fear. Beachcomber smiled.

"And I said it's all right. I was hoping to see you again, too. My work is fun, but it can be...lonely sometimes, real lonely." he said gently.

"When your work isn't the same as everyone else's, it gets lonely," Ghost agreed. "I don't know what I would have done if I wasn't part of a team-" he broke off suddenly and looked down, and Beachcomber knew that he had touched on the Problem, what was really bothering Ghost. Ghost looked up again. "I was part of a team, once. Not anymore."

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"I haven't told anyone the whole story, not even Countdown." he said softly. "I didn't have a friend to tell it to. Metroplex is a great guy, but...I guess I couldn't find the right words to tell him."

"I could be your friend, Ghost." Beachcomber replied. "And you don't have to say anything. Real friends understand when you want to be silent just as much as when you want to talk. They don't serve a single, set purpose. They just are."

"Friends, then," Ghost said. He appeared to be a lot less nervous than when he had came. He cast about indecisively, and then nodded sharply. "And I do want to tell you. Even if I can't find the right words to say it. To keep silent is to betray them...the ones I called friends, family, and teammates. This is how I remember it..."

"Hey Ghost! You waiting to rust or what?" cried a vibrant green colored 'bot.

"I'm just waiting for Ord to come back, Vie." Ghost pronounced the name as vee, as the French did for their word for life. "He mentioned something about a meeting with Countdown. It could be important."

"Oh, all right. Don't wait too long! Daemon's looking for you."

"So tell him what I'm doing," he sighed to the femme. "And get off my case!"

"Geez, what a teammate! Anyone would think you're ungrateful!" she joked, knowing full well that more than any of them, Ghost was happy to be part of a team.

The Spymasters were an odd bunch, a group of polar opposites - like Ghost and Vie, one named for death, the other for life. Angel and Daemon were the same way. And Ord, their leader, tied them all together. They formed Spyre, one of the few Micro gestalts. 

Vie, the green micro Ghost had been talking to, was energetic, outgoing, and bouncy. She transformed into a jet. Her 'talent', as the Spymasters called their special abilities, was to foil electronics into believing everything was status quo, even when it wasn't. It worked on everything - other robots included. Ghost himself was able to cloak and to warp to another location not too far away, provided he knew what was there. He was slightly smaller than Vie, shy except when one of the other Spymasters was around, transformed into a speedy hovercraft, and as the weakest, tended towards running rather than fighting. They were Spyre's arms.

The black-with-orange-and-red-flames Daemon was a fierce, aggressive and temperamental Micromaster who many found 'difficult to get along with'. Never Ghost, who Daemon treated like a brother, shielding him from too many encounters with others and generally taking him under his wing. Daemon could project holograms, even ones dense enough to fool some sensors. His transform was also a hovercraft. Angel, sweet white-and-gold Angel, was a hacker of the finest kind, but you'd never guess it from her face or her personality. No file was safe, no communications line secure when she was on the job. She turned into another jet. And Ghost loved her dearly - a love that Angel reciprocated in full. The two were rarely far apart. Angel and Daemon were Spyre's legs.

And Ord, solid, dependable Ord, led them all. He had access to all of their talents to a lesser extent. He was a rock of good sense, had the courage and quick thinking to be a full Micromaster leader, and the intelligence and discretion to not want the position. Ord could also segment, split into two parts: the base Ord module, which was the dominant part and looked almost the same as the combined form. The other part was a small, slim robot called Bit. Bit was fully sentient, and full of quick wit to boot. Like Ord, he had all of the talents toned down, but he turned into a little runabout of a car, not the more rugged form of his bigger half.

These were the people that Ghost called family. They were an extremely close-knit team, and they were the best spies in existence. Ghost had a feeling that this meeting between Countdown and Ord had something to do with that. 

About half an hour later, he saw Ord walking towards him, though he was looking at the sky and not where he was going. Ghost waved to catch his attention. "Hey, Ord! What's up?"

Ord jumped, looking over with a startled expression that turned into a smile. "Ghost, you'll be the death of me yet. Even when you're not cloaked, people still don't see you." He became slightly more serious. "But I am glad to see you. Assemble the others back here as quick as you can. We have a job to do."

"...So that's how it is," Ord finished some time later. "Countdown believes that the Decepticons here on Earth are up to something. It's our job to find out what. When we do, Countdown will slip the information to the Autobots - who, unfortunately, will never know who gave them the tip. But they will act on it."

"Ord, are you CRAZY??" cried Daemon. "You're asking us to just walk into the belly of the beast, here. Straight into a 'con base."

"We won't be just walking in, Daemon," Vie snapped. "We're not spies for nothing. And this is the first mission we've had in ages...admit it. You're as bored as the rest of us."

"THIS ISN'T A MISSION, IT'S SUICIDE!!" he roared. "HOW CAN YOU BE SO SLAGGIN' BLASÉ ABOUT IT?"

Ghost winced. He hated when the group fought amongst themselves; it hurt his core to see it. "Please," he said softly, "please consider it, Daemon. We won't get killed if we're together. After all, we're the best, right?"

Daemon calmed down. "All right, Ghost. You're right, we CAN do it. We WILL do it."

Ord nodded. "So let's do it."

"So, you went right to it?" Beachcomber said encouragingly.

Ghost nodded. "Oh, yes. Once we were in agreement, there was nothing to stop us. You have to remember, Countdown asked us to do it, most of the other Micros didn't even know us more than in passing... so there was no one to talk us out of it. Besides..." he half-smiled ruefully, "we WERE bored, just as Vie accused. So we went, all right. We went."

He sighed. "It should have been easy. But as luck would have it, you Autobots had caused some problems with their base not long before; they were testing a new security system about the same time we got in."

Beachcomber interrupted. "Let me guess...you tripped it. And had to split, like, before you got any information." Ghost shook his head.

"You're only part right, Beachcomber. We caught on to their security system right away. Vie and Ord worked on making the system not catch Angel while she hacked their comm lines. Daemon and I, however, drew a harder role...we had to actually go down into the base and upload the information that Angel found."

"Ready?" Ord inquired softly. Ghost and Daemon nodded. "I wish I could go with you two, but Vie needs my help on this end."

"Don't worry about it." Daemon said with a grin. For all that he had been the most reluctant to come, he was the most eager to get involved. Then he and Ghost slipped out through a vent and upsized. Ghost vanished, and Daemon suddenly took on the appearance of a Decepticon he had seen once: Frenzy.

"Let's go," Ghost's disembodied voice said. They set off down the hall and into the room Angel had directed them to. There, she had said, they would find the computer which held some Decepticon plans...plans that Angel hadn't fully understood, and couldn't upload herself.

No sooner were they inside the room when the other door slid open and Megatron walked in. "Frenzy, what a timely wandering you have," he greeted. "I was just about to send for you."

Daemon acted his part. "Yeah? Well, what is it, Megatron?" Megatron scowled.

"I thought I told you to speak with respect. I need you to take a copy of this plan to Soundwave. He needs it to get the parts we need."

"Yah, okay. But what's this thing for anyway?" Daemon/Frenzy asked, hoping for easy information.

"Frenzy, you idiot. This plan is to make a weapon of mass destruction...a satellite that, once launched into this miserable mudball's orbit, can destroy any target we choose." Megatron laughed. "And the Autobot base will be our test target."

Daemon took the proffered disk with only a Frenzy-like laugh as comment. Then he walked out the door he had come in, making sure to give Ghost ample time to get through as well. "Get that, Ghost..." he snickered. "Ord'll never believe us when we say Megatron handed the information right to us."

"Sure he will, Daemon. After we explain it to him. But come on; this job's not done yet. We have to get out of here." They began to retrace their steps.

Beachcomber laughed. "Priceless, really. Megatron was still around at that time?"

"Oh yes. This...was probably at least ten Earth years ago." Beachcomber sobered up.

"You said I was partly right before. Yet so far, it seems like you had pretty smooth sailing, if I may say so."

Ghost was silent for a moment, remembering. "We were lucky...a thousand things could have gone wrong when Megatron was in the room. Somehow we got clear of there without him suspecting a thing...a kudos to Daemon's acting ability and realistic holograms. But then, everything went to pieces. Vie's interference gave out, and she, Ord, and Angel were detected before Ord could bring up his corresponding skill. From there, things only got worse."

"You see, Beachcomber, our luck ran out. We turned a corner, and ran straight into the real Frenzy."

"Wha- hey! Who're you?!" Frenzy yelled. He suddenly clued in. "ATTACK!! AUTOBOTS!!!!" Alarms blared.

"Run, Ghost!" Daemon hissed. Obediently, Ghost started off. Then he turned back, realizing that Daemon was not following.

"Daemon, come on! We've got to get out of here!" 

Daemon shook his head. "I'll hold these creeps off. You take this-" he held out the disk "-and get back to Ord." When Ghost didn't take it, he scowled. "We'll never both get back together, and I can fight better. Take it and go! I'll catch up to ya!" He smiled as the disk was lifted from his hand. For a second, he held the unseen hand in his. "Luck to you, Ghost."

"And you," Ghost shakily replied. Then he ran. He ran as fast as he could, knowing that more and more Decepticons would be following him with every passing second. He could hear them yelling behind him and knew his time as a free 'bot was about to be dramatically shortened.

"Got to...think of...something!" Ghost panted as he pelted down the corridor. A little voice in the back of his mind calmly pointed out that he wasn't one of the Spymasters for nothing: he had abilities that made him part of the team. "Primus, I must be an idiot!" he exclaimed. Ducking into a corridor that branched off of the main one, Ghost cloaked himself and waited for his pursuers to pass. Then he calmly warped back to his waiting teammates.

"Ghost! Report - why are the alarms going off?" Ord snapped out.

"We...we were caught. Just after we got the plans." Ghost replied, his voice wavering as the shock began to catch up to him. 

Ord softened. "And Daemon?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"He stayed..." Ghost was shaking now. 'H-he stayed s-so I could g-get away with the plans..."

Angel put an arm around him. "Easy, Ghost. He did what any of us would do - gave his life for the mission. Now, let's get out of here." She was about to continue when Bit interrupted.

"Oh, crap," he muttered, visibly straining. "I can't hold it...I think they've found us! Let's move!"

"Are you sure?" demanded Ord of his small counterpart. Suddenly an ominous rumbling sound filled the vents. "They're flushing the system! Quick - down into the halls!"

"We'll be killed!" Vie cried out.

"It'll be better than being killed up here - at least in the halls, upsized, we have a chance to break through and escape. Now, down - that's an order!" The five dropped through the vent and upsized before they hit the floor. New alarms wailed in addition to the old ones. 

Bit ran up next to Ord. "You need the extra firepower!" he cried before merging with the leader. Ord began to blast oncoming Decepticons.

"Ah, fearless leader - we're not going to get out of this, there's too many of them." Vie said decidedly.

Ord grunted. "New plan, then - we'll hold them off, and Ghost makes a break for it."

"Why me?"

"Because your cloaking and warping talents give you the best chance of getting away. Now go!" Ord ordered.

"But-"

"Ghost, please," Angel said softly, "don't make this all for nothing." Ghost nodded.

"All right, I'll do it. And - and - I'll see you all later." And for the second time in only a few minutes, Ghost was forced to turn his back on friends and run. Cloaking shield up, dodging weapons fire and Decepticons, Ghost fled until he was close enough to a good warp point and far enough away from interference. Throwing one more backward glance, he triggered the warp and was gone.

He rematerialized on a hillside hundreds of kilometers away and collapsed. Sobs shook his body as the earlier panic subsided. Ghost knew he should be more professional over this, but he couldn't. He had left his friends, his family, -his life- behind on that mission. "I'll never forget this," he swore. "Never. No mission is more important than the people assigned to it.

"And that's it," Ghost finished. "I returned to base about two Earth hours later and delivered the information. I made my report to Countdown, he expressed his condolences, and I took off."

Beachcomber frowned. "Why?"

"Because my reason for staying was gone," Ghost snapped, much as he had that fateful day. "I lived for that team. And without them, being a Microbot just wasn't worth it. My last action as an official Microbot was to plant the information where someone would find it. After that...well, I went solo. There's a few times I've helped you guys with tidbits you thought came from humans, but it was my work. Other than that, I just...lived. When Metroplex was built, I moved in."

"Did he know?" Beachcomber asked. Ghost laughed, then looked startled as if by his own audacity.

"Oh, yes. He's really incredible if you get to know him. I'm not sure why, but he took it upon himself to help me - I guess he understood that I wanted to hide."

"I did," said the big disembodied voice. "But then I decided you needed more company than myself - and I knew you were lonely, too, Beachcomber."

"Oh, my. I never realized," Beachcomber said, mouth slightly open in surprise. He re-focused on the now once again nervous Micro. "But now, you'll stick around, won't you? You're always welcome here."

Ghost nodded - gratefully, Beachcomber thought. The little grey 'bot looked like he was about to say something, shook his head, smiled, and after raising his hand in salute, he vanished as quickly as he had com into Beachcomber's life.

Yet somehow, Beachcomber knew that Ghost would come back. Because he had gotten to the shy little spook and touched him in a way that none had for years...

He had heard Ghost's Story.


End file.
